It was my last day of work, and my coworker wanted to go out for drinks. A couple of us went to a bar near my house. Even though I drank the amount I normally would, I felt way more drunk than I should have been. I was feeling sick, so I decided to go home. My coworkers offered to walk me, then invited themselves up to my apartment. I don't remember obliging, or anything after that. I woke up the next morning with only my shirt on. My "friend" who was still there just casually asked if I wanted to get breakfast. Like nothing had happened.

I was too ashamed to ask what happened, or even to ask the question to myself. Surely, nothing happened, and it was fine. After that, he began to show up where I was after work, all the time. I thought, oh, what an attentive new friend. I'd never had anyone want to spend so much time with me, even a partner. It felt nice at first. Then, it seemed like he always had a problem with any other men in my life. He said he was just being protective, when I brought it up to him. I couldn't spend time with anyone without getting the third degree. Then it happened again. I woke up without my pants and underwear on and didn't remember the night before. I was still too ashamed to talk about what happened, so I didn't say anything. I blamed myself, he was so well liked by everyone he knew, it clearly must've been my fault. But I couldn't shake what happened. I felt so alone - he'd alienated me from all my friends either through deception or humiliation. The isolation and shame ate at me from the inside. I started self harming, and I was so depressed, I was constantly considering suicide.

Then it happened a third time. But this time, I had some memory of what had occurred. I couldn't handle it anymore, so I confronted him. He told me no, of course not. I pressed harder, saying I had an inexplicable bacterial infection - that I attributed to the fact that he raped me both anally and then vaginally. Finally, he admitted that yes, we had slept together. But he turned it on me, said that I had forced him, even though he had been teasing me not an hour earlier that I couldn’t even walk home. I asked him how it was possible that I had forced him to have sex with me if I couldn’t even walk? Why would I do that if I never wanted that in any other scenario? He accused me of gaslighting him, and controlling him, then begged me never to tell anyone. I was sick. Even after this conversation I still questioned myself, was he right? Was this all my fault? Had I forced him?

He still showed up to places I was, even though he lived across town he was always frequenting coffee shops and restaurants by my apartment. I was always anxious walking into a building, would he be there? My condition worsened, I was constantly on edge, I hated myself for what happened. I was sick to my stomach over it. Then I started to wonder, am I sick, or... was I pregnant. Luckily, I was able to attain a safe, legal abortion. I felt so free afterward. Like I could do anything. I can’t imagine what could have happened if he found out I was pregnant. But I’m so glad I’ll never know.